


A New Beginning

by Telaryn



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Attraction, Deaf Character, Deaf Clint Barton, Gen, M/M, Physical Disability, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-01-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 16:01:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1121802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telaryn/pseuds/Telaryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agent Bobbi Morse returns to SHIELD after a particularly difficult assignment with a critically wounded Hawkeye in tow.  While the master archer with the questionable past recovers in SHIELD's medical wing, people with a vested interest in Clint Barton's future discuss his fate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [megyal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/gifts).



> I played a little fast and loose with Marvel Comics and MCU canon - hopefully the result was worth it! Thanks to the mods for their patience and diligence in putting this exchange together!

Special Agent Phil Coulson didn’t like it when operations didn’t proceed according to spec. During his time as a ranger in the Special Forces, one of his main jobs had been to bring a mission back on task when it was threatening to go off the rails. In his current position when that happened he had two choices: call an abort, or trust his people and their training to be able to make the sweetest lemonade out of some seriously sour lemons.

His fellow handlers, as far as he could tell, were far more relaxed about the whole business. “Nature of the beast,” was one of Agent Sitwell’s favorite sayings, which Coulson found far preferable to the baser “shit happens” he’d been tormented with in the field. “You especially have your pick of the best trained people in the business,” he’d told Coulson one morning over coffee and pancakes at their favorite diner. “You need to let them handle things.”

In hindsight Coulson recognized that it was a good thing he and Jasper Sitwell were friends, because he found Jasper’s logic a hallmark of lazy thinking, and had told him so. Sitwell hadn’t taken obvious offense at the rebuke, but he’d never raised the subject again.

This time his source of frustration was his top asset – Barbara Morse. Bobbi was now nearly a month overdue on what should have been a straight-up undercover recon mission to Crossfire Technologies. Every time Coulson had threatened to pull the plug, going so far at one point as to confront her directly in her mission established apartment, she had stood her ground and insisted there was more in play than they had suspected.

What Coulson hadn’t been able to make her appreciate was that even though he believed her, William Cross was a psychopath…and he had Hawkeye employed as his Chief of Security. Clint Francis Barton, former Avenger, most recently corrupted by association with the Soviet operative the Black Widow. “How did he end up here?” Bobbi had wanted to know. “What did he learn about Romanoff when he was her pawn? And how much of that information has he turned over to Crossfire?”

They were all legitimate questions, but Coulson’s position had been that the intel for their current operation was insufficient to address them.

He hated being proven right.

In all fairness to whoever had been tasked to page him to Medical, Coulson didn’t stay on the intercom long enough to find out details. Bobbi was the only asset he had in the field, and he needed to see for himself how bad her injuries were. It was the only explanation he had when he arrived in the waiting area and saw her in one of the battered plastic chairs, face buried in her hands. “Agent Morse?”

Her head came up so fast Coulson couldn’t stop himself from taking a reflexive step backwards. Anger blazed out at him from behind her trademark red-lensed glasses, but from the first day they met Bobbi Morse had been one of the smartest, most professional agents Coulson had ever worked with. “Report,” he said, forcing his voice to a calm he most certainly didn’t feel.

It was painful watching her struggle to compose herself. “We were blown,” she said finally. “You were right – I stayed in too long and he figured it out. I compromised the mission and risked important intel.” Fumbling in a pocket of her uniform, she passed him a flash drive. “We got out, but it was unforgivably sloppy. I’m sorry, sir.”

Coulson took it all in and sorted it out into its proper mental folders, but found himself tripping over a couple of pronouns. “Wait…we?” He studied Morse’s expression for a moment, and the connection abruptly came together. “You brought _Hawkeye_ back with you?”

“He saved my life,” Bobbi retorted. “He nearly killed himself getting us free – getting him medical help and a place to recover until Cross cools off was the least I could do.”

“And the fact that we’ve been discussing this man as a potential asset for well over a year had no play in your decision?” It was a purposefully loaded question – he needed to know how far she was willing to go to advance her future in SHIELD.

She met his gaze without flinching, but he could see the heated swirl of emotions in play. “None whatsoever,” she lied.  
**********************************  
Clint had no idea where he was or how long he’d been unconscious when his eyes finally opened. _Medical wing obviously,_ he thought, eyes darting around the room. _Question is, where?_ The equipment that surrounded him was more advanced than anything Crossfire had at its disposal. _Not to mention I can’t see them wasting resources on me when…_ He started to shift in his bed and froze as he felt heavy restraints holding his wrists in place. _Okay, maybe not?_ He tested his legs and found them similarly bound.

 _That’s not good._ Standard protocol would have been to secure his wrists and not worry about the legs. The only reason for binding Clint’s ankles would be if they knew his background and knew he was capable of doing all kinds of damage with his feet; up to and including freeing himself.

Fingertips lightly touched his shoulder; Clint reacted as though he’d been struck. He hadn’t heard anyone else in the room. _You didn’t hear anything,_ he realized suddenly, ice cold fear washing through his gut as a bureaucrat in a thousand dollar suit came around into his line of sight.

“My name is Phil Coulson.”

Clint inhaled sharply as his worst fears were confirmed. There was sympathy in Coulson’s eyes though as he said, “Can you understand me?”

Clint had learned rudimentary lip-reading when he was in the circus, along with just enough sign language to be able to communicate with the fortune teller’s youngest daughter. Giovanna had hired him to watch the girl when there wasn’t any sort of manual labor for him to do, and he’d been good at it. “Keep it slow and try to enunciate,” he said, feeling all hope crumble as he felt the vibrations in his throat, knew he was speaking and couldn’t hear a bit of it.

Nodding, Coulson grabbed a chair and set it next to the bed. “I sent Bobbi to get some rest,” he said, once he was settled. “She wasn’t doing anyone any good by pacing and worrying. She’ll come see you later.”

 _”I’m SHIELD. They put me under to get the goods on Cross.”_ Bobbi’s whispered confession as she begged him to help her. Cross had known something was up – Clint and a squad of guards had been sent to collect the girl and they’d been left with no doubt as to her fate once Cross got his hands on her.

“You’re SHIELD?” he asked Coulson.

The man nodded. “Agent Morse is my responsibility.” Reaching up, he touched the wrist cuff nearest to him. “Which I suppose makes you my problem.”

Clint pulled against his ankle restraints, and Coulson actually smiled. “Yes Hawkeye, everybody who’s come in contact with you knows who you are and what you’re capable of. I didn’t even have to give that particular order.”

 _And you’re not going to rescind it are you, you son of a bitch?_ he thought bitterly. “So what now?” he asked, wincing again at the feel of the vibrations and the absence of sound. “How bad am I hurt?” He swallowed twice, feeling some of his fear and uncertainty leaking through. “Will my hearing come back?”

“We don’t know. There’s no way to tell until you start to heal.” Coulson leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “We owe you for saving Agent Morse. Director Fury has already cleared you to receive treatment here, so if there is any long term damage you’ll have the benefit of SHIELD technology to help you going forward.” Clint was very aware what a potential gift he was being offered – a gift he wasn’t currently in a position to refuse – but he still could stop himself asking, “What’s the catch?”

Coulson smiled, and Clint realized he didn’t necessarily like it when the man smiled at him. “You focus on getting better. The day we establish what it’s going to take for you to get your hearing back, you can ask me that again and I’ll answer you honestly. You have my word.”  
****************************  
Six weeks into Barton’s recovery, Coulson received the expected visit from Nick Fury. “I thought we agreed we were going to drain this one and toss him in a cell.” The SHIELD director dropped gracefully into a chair opposite Coulson and stared at his subordinate expectantly. “You saw how easily he was played by the Black Widow – he’s too much of a security risk for what you’re planning, Phil.”

“How do you know what I’m planning?” Coulson asked mildly.

Fury snorted. “Please. I’m not one of your fresh-faced recruits Coulson – I can read you like a cheap dime store novel. You’re hoping if we put that boy back together he’ll be so grateful that he’ll give us the intel we’re looking for plus sign his life over to you.”

“First of all,” Coulson said, leaning forward, “he’s not a boy. Second – have you read what we have on Barton? Seen the profiler’s report? Clint Barton has been looking for a place to belong his entire life, and I think we could be the ones to give it to him.”

“And the fact that he’s built almost exactly like your last three boyfriends has nothing to do with you championing him, does it?”

“That’s not fair,” Coulson snarled, feeling his cheeks flame hot with unaccustomed embarrassment. “If you really think I would let my personal tastes and feelings compromise my duty…” He clenched his hands into tight fists, realizing that without it he wouldn’t be able to stop himself throwing half the things on his desk.

Fury raised his hands in surrender. “Whoa. Just hold on, Phil. I am a little worried about your objectivity, but I’m not even in the same goddamn neighborhood as I’d have to be to question your loyalty.” He sighed. “Make your case and I promise I’ll give it a fair look.”

Knowing that this was coming, Coulson had already started assembling the information he knew Fury would need in order to decide Barton’s fate. He hadn’t planned to get called out so neatly on the fact that Clint Barton was very much his physical type, but all that meant was that if Hawkeye was accepted into SHIELD Coulson wouldn’t be allowed to be his handler.

 _Which is probably not the worst idea in the world,_ he thought, finally giving up on getting himself back in the mindset necessary to finish his paperwork and heading down to the rehab facility in the base medical wing. A handler had to be objective enough to see past whatever personal feelings they had for their asset, and all anyone had to do was point to Coulson’s history with Bobbi Morse to see how well he typically handled that kind of challenge.

And Bobbi Morse was very much _not_ his type.  
****************************  
Bobbi had wanted to be with him when they fitted him with the hearing aids and turned them on for the first time. Now that the moment was here, Clint was glad he’d politely, but firmly refused. “You might experience some pain or disorientation,” the senior tech was explaining. “If it doesn’t level off in a few seconds, tell me – otherwise ride it out as best you can.”

Clint nodded, his jaw set, his hands clenched in fists on his thighs to hide the fact that he was trembling with nervous anticipation. “Do it.”

The first rush of full sound into his ears was painful. Clint was aware he’d been without his normal hearing for nearly three months – in spite of the therapies and preparation he’d done leading up to this moment, his doctors all said it was normal for him to have started adjusting to the idea of being mostly deaf for the rest of his life.

The assistant tech inserted a slender metal instrument in Clint’s right ear. There was a moment of pressure, and then the sound resolved itself into something clear and normal on that side. “Does the other one need it?” he asked. Clint nodded.

There was the same momentary pressure in his left ear, and then Clint looked at his senior tech, who was smiling. “No need to say anything,” she said. “I can tell by the look on your face that we’ve got it.”

“Thank you,” Clint said, and at the sound of his own voice for the first time in months, he couldn’t stop himself from bursting into tears. _I’m going to be okay. Oh God, I’m going to be okay._ The idea that he would be disabled, helpless, reliant on other people’s charity for the rest of his days had been the subject of more than a few nightmares during his rehabilitation.

A hand gripped his shoulder as he continued to sob. “Everything looks good,” said a smooth, mellow voice. Instead of pulling away, Clint reached up and wrapped his own hand around Coulson’s – lightly squeezing to show that he’d heard and understood. His breath caught in his throat as he felt Coulson’s free hand briefly caress his hair, and then the SHIELD agent pulled free and came around into his line of sight.

“Any pain?” he asked, indicating Clint’s right ear.

Barton shook his head. “It’s like I was never hurt. I can barely feel them!”

Coulson nodded. “I brought in one of our best contractors to make some improvements. I wanted to make sure that you had the benefit of our very best.” He glanced up at the techs, who withdrew without him having to say a word.

 _”Coulson’s a good guy.”_ He’d been intrigued enough by their first meeting that Clint had spent a lot of his time with Bobbi quizzing her on details about the self-possessed SHIELD agent. _”He comes across as Mr. By-The Book, but there’s really a lot more to him than meets the eye. A lot of times you can tell his Rules Lawyer persona is how he protects himself from caring too much for his assets.”_

“You said when I got my hearing back I could ask you a question again,” he said, shifting uncomfortably in his chair.

Coulson didn’t appear the slightest bit rattled by Clint’s comment. “I did indeed,” he acknowledged.

There was a moment of silence before Clint realized he was going to have to actually ask the question again. “What’s…what’s the catch?” he asked, gesturing around them. “For all this? I mean, I’m grateful, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve also been around long enough to realize that grateful is how you want me.” He forced himself to meet Coulson’s eyes. “You wouldn’t have brought in your top people if you didn’t expect to get something out of me in return and now I’m wondering exactly what it is?” He was babbling a little as he finished but there was a look in Coulson’s eyes that was reminding him of the way the SHIELD agent had touched his hair, and the unprofessional thoughts both were starting to kindle in the back of his mind.

“You’ve probably already figured that we’re interested in whatever intel you can provide us,” Coulson began – his demeanor stiffening somewhat. “Agent Morse has given us a great deal of insight into William Cross’ operation, but obviously as his former head of security you would have been in a position to learn a great deal more.” He sighed. “And then there is your time with the Black Widow.”

 _Ouch._ “Okay, I should have seen that coming,” Clint admitted. “What else?”

Coulson seemed surprisingly reassured at his lack of resistance. “Um, the last thing is still a point of some contention among my superiors, but I suppose you should know – I want to bring you into SHIELD. I think you would make an incredible asset to the organization.”

Clint smiled in spite of himself. “Bobbi told me you might be thinking along those lines. Would I be working with you?”

“That still has to be worked out,” Coulson said, looking uncomfortable all of a sudden. “I have a tendency to become too emotionally entangled with my assets. There are, um, certain things about you that would cause even more concern in people whose job it is to be concerned about that.”

 _Oh,_ Clint realized, eyes widening slightly as everything Coulson wasn’t saying fell into place. _And how do we get around that?_ he thought, realizing that he seriously wanted to kiss the man sitting across from him. _How do I tell you that if you’re really attracted to me like I think you are, I really kinda don’t mind it at all?_

“One of the hazards of the work we do here,” Coulson said softly, “is that we have to assume the worst intentions of everybody that comes into our little family. Impulsive moves tend to be frowned upon, particularly moves that might cast the person making them in the wrong light. Do you understand my meaning, Hawkeye?”

He did – that was the bitch of it. “You’re suggesting I play it close to the vest. Careful.”

Coulson nodded. “I think that’s the only way to get what’s best for both of us.”


End file.
